Find that Bear!
by firecracker189
Summary: John goes on a hunt. Sammy's upset, and Dean can't find Sam's teddy anywhere. Wee!chesters, Caring!Dean, Upset!Sammy, Guilty!John. Oneshot, written for prompt by a friend on Tumblr.


**This one is for the beautiful and lovely Abbey Ferris, I love you you crazy Canadian! Here, have some fluffy Sammy. **

**August 3****rd****, 1986**

"Daddy go?" the little boy clung desperately to his father's pants, barest hint of a whine creeping into his voice. Pressing his forehead to the rough denim, his bottom lip quivered, crocodile tears imminent. The man's broad shoulders lowered a centimeter, hearing his son's pleas. Shifting the bag to his opposite hand, he rubbed absently at the soft mop of hair, before giving his oldest a look. Snapping to, the boy quickly detached the toddlers arms from his father's thigh, grunting a bit as they wound themselves around his own neck, squeezing tightly as the tears came. "Yeah, kiddo. Daddy has to go." John Winchester turned one last time to face his sons, Sam's snuffling sobs tugging at his heart. Sucking in a breath, he looked down at Dean. "You know the rules. Lock the doors, check the salt, make sure he gets to bed on time. There's food enough to last till I get back, emergency cash is under my mattress. If anything happens, to you or to your brother, call me first, if I don't answer then call Bobby."

"Yes sir."

The boy's eyes flicked upward to meet his father's, anticipating the final command. "Protect your brother." They chorused. John's lifeless eyes flared with pride, reaching out and ruffling his son's hair. "Good boy. I'll be back on Saturday. Stay safe." The door swung shut, click of the lock deafening in the sudden silence of the room, Sammy's agitated sobs turning to soft hiccups. Dean checked the salt lines across the door and windows, cradling his brother against his chest, resting his chin atop the soft hair as he swayed gently from side to side. He sighed into the emptiness. Dad was gone. Again. Dad was always gone. "Guess it's just you an' me, hunh, Sammy?" he mumbled to his brother, who peeked up at him from beneath long damp lashes. His chubby little hand patted Dean's scrawny chest in answer. Sammy was a quiet child, speaking only when spoken to, or when necessary to. When he was alone, he preferred to communicate by touch, or speaking in his own little language. Dean called it 'Speaking Sammy'. Dad called it 'gibberish nonsense' and told him to use his words. Sam gave a shuddering sigh, squirming closer to Dean and fisting a tiny hand into his hair. Dean hissed.

"Easy, Sammy." He murmured, running a hand up and down the distraught toddler's back. "Ya want your bear?" he asked, feet already leading him towards their shared duffel in anticipation of the nod. Digging through their meager stash of belongings, a small crease appeared between his eyes as the bear was nowhere to be found upon first pass. He tried again, digging to the very depths of the bag, to where one of his socks (several sizes too small now) lay crumpled beneath a discarded story book and several old gum wrappers. Still no bear. He moved to the bed, sitting Sammy down. "Just a second bud." He answered the whimper and consequent grabby hands. The child's lower lip jutted out farther, wet eyes pleading. "Wan' beaw."

"I know man." He muttered, stomach plummeting to the floor as no further signs of the familiar brown animal surfaced. _Shit. _He licked his lips, standing and scanning the room carefully, picking up the blankets and peering beneath them. One stray Sammy sock from last night, a piece of lint, some grains of salt… no bear. He glanced at his brother fearfully. "Um, Sammy?" his baby brother's hopeful eyes swiveled towards him, a lone tear frozen beneath his eye. "When did you last see your bear?"

"Don' know…" the upset child whimpered, reaching for his brother again.

"Kay, that helps…" Dean muttered, scooping up his brother and setting him on his hip as he paced the room. _Where could the damned thing be? _He looked everywhere, including the bathroom, before finally sighing in defeat, combing his fingers through Sammy's tangles.

"Beaw?" Sammy asked miserably, pulling his thumb from his mouth with a wet sucking noise.

Dean shook his head sadly. "Sorry Sammy, I can't find him…" he cringed against the anticipated onslaught of Sammy fury. The cranky toddler, already upset by Dad leaving, simply wouldn't settle down for a nap until he had his teddy.

Sure enough, Sammy's little lip quivered, face screwing up in misery and anguish. To him, the worst thing in his world was losing his teddy, and Dean hoped to God it stayed that way for as long as possible. Dean leaned as far back as possible while still maintaining his hold on Sam. Being at point blank range of a Sammy explosion was never a good thing.

Sammy sucked in air like a beached whale, eyes squinting shut, little fists balling up as he began to howl, tears pouring down his red face.

"Wan' Beaw!" the little boy screamed.

"Ow! Dammit Sammy!" the seven year old cursed, lowering the ball of flailing fists to the ground and stepping out of firing range, rubbing at the spot above his eye that a tiny elbow had connected with. "I know you want your bear, but I can't find it!" Dean cried, frustrated. He sank into a chair, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Sam would never sleep until that bear was found, and dammit if it wasn't anywhere in sight…

Dean's eyes traveled toward the phone. No. Dad wouldn't want him bothering him for something as dumb as finding a teddy bear…. But if he didn't, then Sammy wouldn't get any sleep. And if Sammy didn't get any sleep, Dean didn't get any sleep. And if Dean didn't get any sleep, then Dean couldn't protect Sammy. And if Dean couldn't protect Sammy…. If Dean couldn't protect Sammy….

Fear won out in the end, and he snatched up the phone quickly, punching in his Dad's number.

"_Dad?" _

John's concern at having his son call barely an hour after he'd left ratcheted up farther at what sounded like a full on Sammy Tantrum blared in the background.

"Dean? What's wrong?"

His son swallowed audibly before replying hesitantly. _"I uh, I can't find Sammy's bear." _

"Shit!" John cursed. No wonder the kid sounded like he'd just found out he had a week to live. If Sammy didn't get that bear, he wouldn't sleep. Period.

"_You don't have it with you do you? I mean, the only place I haven't looked is in the car, and…"_

John groaned sympathetically, casting his eyes around the backseat, landing on a familiar brown object. "Yeah, he left it in the backseat." John confirmed, already doing an about face and flooring it towards the motel.

"_You couldn't um…"_

"Already on it, son." He promised, frowning at the trepidation in his son's voice. Was he really that afraid of making a simple request? "Be there in fourty five."

"_Kay. Thanks Dad." _The relief in Dean's voice caused a chuckle to erupt from the gruff hunter's throat as he hung up the phone, shaking his head.

Dean snapped the phone shut quickly, tossing it aside and moving to stand over his screaming brother. "Sam." The desperate child continued to scream, tiny limbs flailing, face red, tears sliding down his face. "Sammy." Dean injected a bit of sternness into his voice, trying his best to sound like his Dad. "I mean it Sam, you better shape up 'fore Daddy gets back…"

That did it. The toddler's screams ceased, head turning up to face his brother. "D-Daddy come back?" he asked hopefully, giving a mighty sniff.

Dean snagged a tissue off the side table, kneeling beside his little brother. "Yeah, Daddy's comin' back. An' guess what, Sammy?"

Sammy army crawled his way into Dean's lap, resting his head against his chest. "Wha'?" his interest was piqued. Sammy loved secrets.

Dean pressed his lips together at his brother's expression, two parts curious, one part clingy, and one part unsure, as if he'd forgotten why he was supposed to be sad. The older brother took full advantage of the opportunity, quickly and efficiently tackling the snotty nose before Sammy realized what was happening. He scrunched his nose in protest, but Dean was already lobbing the nasty tissue at the trash. "There we go, kiddo." Sammy frowned, poking Dean hard (well, as hard as a three year old could) in his ribs. He was impatient.

"De no say 'what'."

Dean couldn't hold in a laugh at his brother's fragmented way of speaking. Sam had a way all his own, there was no denying that. He ruffled the boy's hair. "Mnh mnh." He shook his head, grinning. "'M not gonna say 'what' 'f you don't guess." He teased.

Sammy sighed, scrubbing at his eyes with his knuckles. "Sammy no know 'what'." He complained, squirming around a bit, flopping his head down on Dean's stomach, legs sticking out into the floor.

Dean poked his brother's pudgy tummy, illiciting a yelp from the disgruntled toddler. "Aw, c'mon Squirt, 'a know you're smarter'n that. Guess." He wheedled. This was going better than he'd thought. Keep Sammy distracted by the little 'guessing game' until Dad got back with the bear.

Sam gave an impatient grunt, sitting up and crossing his tiny arms. "Sammy tell De already, no know 'what'!"

"S'not how the game works, Sammy boy. Ya gotta guess." Dean's tone switched to playful, watching as all traces of sadness turned to pure Winchester stubbornness as the boy tried to figure out what it was his brother was keeping from him. His forehead creased between the eyes, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth.

"Stowy?" he guessed, eyes shining hopefully. Dean felt a pang as he shook his head. He knew how much Sammy loved stories. While they drove, he'd climb into Dean's lap and beg for him to read to him for hours on end.

"Sorry Sammy, no story. Guess again."

Sammy's face fell. He plunked down onto his bottom across from Dean, staring at the carpet intently.

"Puppy?" he asked, face pleading. Dean groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. Ever since they'd visited the fair with Bobby a few weeks back, and saw that pen full 'a hound dog puppies, Sammy hadn't been able to get 'em off his mind. (He'd even managed to wheedle Bobby into getting one for the Salvage Yard. Kid's puppy eyes were some kinda voodoo 'er somethin'. Not even Bobby could resist 'em.)

"Nope. No puppy. Keep guessin' Sammy." Dean grinned.

Sam huffed in exasperation, bangs flopping down into his eyes. Kid needed a haircut.

"Too hawd!" he complained, bouncing a bit on his butt to illustrate his point.

"S'not too hard, Sammy. Ya just gotta keep guessin'." Dean explained patiently, ears straining for the welcome sound of an engine.

Sam shook his head stubbornly. "De tell." He demanded. "Sammy no guess no more. Sammy not know."

Dean groaned inwardly. Sam was riled up and grumpier than a bear in a trap. He needed sleep.

"Alright, Squirt. C'mere and De will tell." He opened his arms. Sammy crawled over, settling himself against Dean, nosing his way into the crook of his neck.

"Tell." He demanded grumpily.

Dean rubbed his back, trying to get him to calm down a bit. "Easy bud. I'm about to."

He was saved by the roar of an engine. Relief washed over him so strong he feared he'd keel over and end up with Sammy on top of him.

"Dad!" he cried, not bothering to hide the note of 'thank God' in his voice.

"Hey, Dean." John shut the door behind him, one hand behind his back, clutching the bear.

"Daddy!" Sammy squealed, launching himself up and out of Dean's arms, firmly re-attaching himself to his father's leg.

"Hey there, Sammy." John greeted, bending and picking up the fussy toddler. "Look who I found in tha back seat'a tha car." He pulled the bear from behind his back.

Sam's eyes widened, and he eagerly accepted the animal, cuddling it close.

The exhausted toddler buried his head into his father's jacket, leather cool and comforting against his enflamed cheeks. Snaking his thumb up and into his mouth, Sammy gave a sleepy sigh, eyelids fluttering. A large hand came up to rub gently at his back, and within moments he was out.

Dean stared exhaustedly up at his father in wonder. John's lips tipped up in amusement. Shaking his head, he moved to sit on the bed beside Dean. "'A swear, he can't do anythin' without that bear."

"Nope." Dean grinned tiredly up at his father, pushing to his feet.

"Ya look like death, son." John observed, watching as the boy yawned widely again. A pang of guilt worked it's way into his heart again as he saw just how exhausted his oldest son was. He'd worked him to hard in the past few days…

"Why dontcha get some sleep, Dean." He suggested, leaning back against the headboard, cradling Sammy across his broad chest.

"You mean…." The boy's green eyes were filled with sleepy trepidation. "… you're staying?" he asked, trying to quench the note of hope that entered his voice. Now he sounded like Sammy.

John nodded sadly. "Yeah. 'm stayin'. Now you get changed and get on into bed. Ya need to rest up. Yer exhausted."

Dean nodded. "Yessir." The boy quickly pulled out a set of pajama pants, pulling on a clean shirt, hair sticking out in every direction as he emerged from the neck.

Crawling up beside his father, he turned toward Sammy before flopping onto his side. John reached up, dimming the light.

"…Hey Dad?"

"What, Dean?"

The small lump shifted a hair closer, head almost resting against the man's ribs. There was silence for just long enough that the father had begun to believe both his sons were asleep. Then, imperceptible if not for his keen senses, came the small and almost pleading statement.

"You should stay more often."


End file.
